


bumblebee and starscream have a talk

by vaultboii



Series: TRANSFORMERS DRABBLES [2]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Till All Are One
Genre: Angst, Background Character Death, F/M, Mostly Contemplative Starscream, and it comes with a bit of feels, bumblebee and starscream have a talk, past spoilers for till all are one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-12
Updated: 2017-06-12
Packaged: 2018-11-13 03:10:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11175744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vaultboii/pseuds/vaultboii
Summary: it's literally the title





	bumblebee and starscream have a talk

**Author's Note:**

> just a short test at starscream's character. not part of my major transformers fic "over a drink." apologies for past feels, im just kicking a dead horse now.

He heard the news too late.

Rattrap was the one who told him. Amongst the glorious violence of celebration the mech had pulled him aside (and if he recalled, with much difficulty), to whisper said words into his audials: “Your pawn is dead.”

Time seemed as if to halt.

He couldn’t name the feeling that shot through him at the words—a detached, icy feeling, as if a mech had shoved a servo in his chest, and trimmed away at the edge of his Spark. A servo of his found itself tapping impatiently along the side of his thigh, ticking away precious nano-kliks. Tic. _Tic._ “Which one.” An unneeded demand in this situation. He knew exactly which pawn.

“Your _beloved_ City-Speaker,” Rattrap said, and his perfectly-placed scheme fell to pieces.

“When.” Unimportant information. Still, good to know for the future. Bumblebee’s blue optics stared disapprovingly from beside him, mockingly grim.

“Last few kliks of the mission. Her processor is gone.” Rubbish. It couldn’t have been destroyed that easily. “Elita-1 apparently killed her due to a processor overload when she fired upon her mission, Car— _Vigilem_.”

“How dreadful.” Flat, the words crashed short of meaningful. “Anything that can be done?”

“Her body is intact. Her mind, however, is—and forgive my imprudence—blank as a newborn Spark.” An infuriatingly calm cough came from the mech. “Medics are working on it as we speak. However, it’s hinted that she’s too _far_ to come back.”

“Isn’t that a pity.” And that was that, and he abandoned the spy to the buzz of the crowd again.

It bugged him. He hated to admit that her being _dead_ bugged him. Glory killed, he retreated with little warning to his quarters, chalking it up for alone time when confronted on his way out. It had been a pressing cycle, after all. He was well-deserving of rest and a glass of Engex, he told himself. That’s why he was leaving. Not because this wriggling gloom had settled deep in his Spark, and an itching desire to fly high away had overtook him. Not because of that.

He was above _attachments_.

“You really did like her, didn’t you?” Bee inquired as they finally got to his balcony, the city lights twinkling in the chaos of Cybertron. He usually enjoyed the sight; he had paid _over_ what was necessary to stick a pede in getting this spot after all, but today it came with a feeling of peculiar _bitterness_. Arms draped over the rail, Engex dangling dangerously over the railing, he looked down at his city and sighed.

 “She wasn’t supposed to die first.” That was always a good start to some horrible touchy-feely speech. Just announce the feelings to his imaginative friend _Yellow the Irritating_. “I had bigger plans for her.”

“That’s all?” Spoken truly like a manipulative wrench to the face. Bee leaned over his shoulder to peer down at Cybertron too. “She meant nothing more than some figure to use?”

“One: we’ve already had this conversation, and two, yes.” His voice pushed to the edge of cracking. “I was going to take your advice to Spark.”

Bee snorted. “What, to start trusting others?”

“No; about letting her trust me.” One servo’s fingers began their ticking all over again, but this time against the metal of the railing. “She could’ve been much easier to manipulate.”

“Could’ve. Might’ve. Probably not. Something would’ve happened. But now she’s gone.” A bitter laugh. “How’s that feel, losing someone close?”

“We barely knew one another. She was just a tool that needed some sharpening, and I thought it would be best to guide her towards that myself.” He shot a look towards Bee. “And I’ll have you know that I refuse to let any one of those _Camiens_ **close**.”

“You don’t let anyone close.” Bee remarked.

“Precisely my point.” A huff. “I just wasn’t done with her, you know. There was plenty more _potential_ in that femme. She could’ve been glorious.”

“Mhmm.”

“She could’ve become one of the greatest femmes here. Better than those other bumbling fools that call themselves part of the Council. She could’ve even been a part of that someday.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And perhaps, maybe she would’ve trusted me. Looked at me differently than anyone else. Cared for me differently than anyone else.” Another huff. “Much more easy to manipulate.”

“Now you’re being delusional.” Bee’s figure tapped him on the shoulder; or, at least, he watched him tap him on the shoulder and felt nothing except that maddening denial. He refused to look at him, considered walking inside. There was nothing to see but slow progress of Cybertron out here. “You’re Starscream, remember? Half the population is out for you. That was including her. Now you’re slowly getting back up from there, but barely. No one trusted you before.”

“You trusted me.”

“And look where that got me.” A fair point on the little mech’s behalf, he had to admit. “Metalhawk, too.” Okay, now that was just pushing it. “My drift is you have to start trusting others. Not everyone’s out to get you. You could’ve started by trusting Windblade. Now she’s gone and you lost your chance.”

“You know,” he interrupted quietly, and Bee had the audacity to roll his optics irritated, “I think I would’ve killed anyone but her.”

Bee fell quiet. He took that as a sign to continue.

“Not her. I think I would have let her live.” Tic, tic, _tic_ went his servos in their vexing sorrow, an irregular beat. “I think I could have _tolerated_ her.” A scoff. “Eventually.”

“You meant that, didn’t you.” That’s all Bee said this time, words parched.

He hesitated.

“Yes.”

He couldn’t see his tormentor’s pitiful face, but the absolute silence he got was even worse. His servos trembled.

“I think...I think she would have _tolerated_ you too,” Bee finally said. “ _Eventually_.”

He took a sip of the Engex. He went inside and didn’t look back.


End file.
